Pregnant With A Royal Baby!

“Except for dealing with the press.”

“Yeah, well, the press is different.”

“And boarding school.”

“There is that.”

“And living in a palace.”

“Right, palace.” Her mother sighed. “But the situation is done, Ginny.”

“I suppose.”

“So what concerns you?”

“Well, I have to see if I can handle it. Dominic’s given me a week to make up my mind. He said we’d go out in public a few times.” She groaned. “Oh, damn.”

“What?”

“I brought jeans and T-shirts. One sundress.” She dropped her head to her hands. “I’m going to go out with a prince, in public, in my junky clothes?”

“Your wardrobe is fine. You’ll be fine.”

“Right.” She hadn’t even told her mom about kissing Dom, possibly sleeping with Dom. All she’d mentioned was not knowing Dominic and changing her life to suit a baby, and just that had scared her silly.

This was a mess.

Two quick knocks at her door brought her head off the pillow. “Yes?”

“It’s me. Dominic. My father requests our presence at dinner tonight.”

Ginny turned toward the wall and whispered, “Gotta go, Mom,” into the phone before she rolled off the bed and said, “Sure. That’s fine. What time?”

“Seven.” He cleared his throat. “It’s semiformal.”

She gaped at the door, as discomfort swamped her. Not only did she not have a semiformal dress for dinner, but her suite had a private sitting room outside her bedroom. He had to be in that room to be knocking on her bedroom door. He might have knocked on the door to her suite before inviting himself in, but she wouldn’t have heard him. The darned place was so big and had such high ceilings that sound either echoed or disappeared. He wasn’t infringing on her privacy. She hoped.

“Semiformal?”

“I took the liberty of having the staff get some suitable clothes for you.”

Pride almost caused her to say, “I’m fine.” But when she looked down at her jeans and considered the contents of her suitcase, she knew this was the first step in many toward giving up her real life.

“You’re right. I have nothing acceptable to meet a king.” She walked to the door, opened it and watched as four men brought in bags and boxes and armloads of dresses, including gowns.

“Oh, my God.”

Dominic walked in behind the parade of men. “Even if you decide not to marry me, you’re here for a week.”

Her mouth fell open at the ease with which he spoke in front of staff, but the expression of not a single man even twitched. This was one well-trained staff.

She took a quick breath. “So I need to be semiformal.”

He nodded. “Yes.”

“Okay. Scram. I have some work to do to be presentable.”

“I can have a hairdresser sent up. Manicurist. Masseuse.”

“Why would I need a massage?”

“Maybe what I should get you is a rundown on my dad. Then you’d very clearly understand why you want to be Zen and you’d get the massage.”

“Great.”

She took advantage of the hairdresser and manicurist, and ten minutes before it was time to leave for dinner she wished she’d agreed to the masseuse.

Dressed in a lightweight blue dress that stopped midcalf, with her hair in an updo suitable for a woman of seventy and old-fashioned pumps dyed to match the dress, she stepped out of her bedroom.

Standing in the great room, Dominic smiled. Unlike her ugly blue dress, his tux appeared to have been made for him. Again he was every inch a prince. Handsome. Debonair. Regal.

While she looked like a frumpy old bat.

“You look lovely.”

“I look like the Queen of England. Get me a hat and one of those sedate purses she carries all the time and people would probably get us confused.”

He laughed. “You are meeting a king.”

“Who wants to be reminded of his grandmother?”

“You do not look like a grandmother.”

“Well, I sure as hell don’t look like a twenty-five-year-old guidance counselor in the coolest school in Texas.”

“Trust me. You will want the armor of a grandma dress when you meet my dad.” He took her elbow and led her to the door, out of the apartment and through the echoing lobby to the waiting elevator.

As they stepped inside and the door closed behind them, she said, “You have some impressive art.”

“We are royalty.”

“I guess I’d better get used to that.” That and ugly clothes.

“That’s why we’re giving you the week. To get accustomed to us.”

She released her breath in a slow sigh. She knew that, of course. She also suspected the clothes weren’t ugly as much as they were dignified.

“Who picked out these clothes anyway?”

He stared straight ahead at the closed elevator door. “I did.”

She pulled the skirt of the too-big dress away from her hips. “Because you think your dad will like me better in baggy clothes?”

“I was a bit off on your size. But it’s better to be too big than too small.”

“Couldn’t you at least have gotten something red?”

“Blue matches your eyes.”

The sweetness of that caught her off guard. For a second she’d forgotten he knew the color of her eyes. But thinking about it, she remembered that gazing into her eyes, making her feel special, had been his seduction superpower.

“Besides, red would have reminded me of that night.”

Her lips lifted into a smile. “Oh?”

“You were devastatingly beautiful.”

Her heart skipped a beat. He’d made her feel beautiful. “If you hadn’t been staring straight ahead when you said that, it would have been romantic.”

“We don’t want to be romantic, remember?”

“So that means you’re not going to look at me?”

“I’m not going to make eye contact. I’m pretty sure that’s what got us into trouble on our date.”

She laughed, but happiness bubbled inside her. He liked her. A prince liked her. At the very least, he liked her looks.

It was heady stuff.

The elevator bell rang. The doors opened. Dominic led her out. “The family dining room is this way.”

They walked across a short hall to open doors that ushered them into a formal dining room. A table that could have seated forty dominated the space. Four places were set near the head. An older man dressed in a royal uniform and a younger man in a tux like Dominic’s rose as they entered.

“Virginia Jones, this is King Ronaldo Sancho and my brother, Prince Alexandros. We call him Alex.”

Ginny froze. What was she supposed to do? Curtsy? Bow? Damn it. Why hadn’t she paid attention to etiquette—

What etiquette? Guidance counselors knew the basics but nothing else. And she certainly hadn’t expected to someday meet a prince, let alone a king. She hadn’t attended etiquette classes. Was there even such a thing anymore? She couldn’t be mad at herself for not knowing something she’d never been exposed to.

“You hold out your hand,” King Ronaldo said irritably. “And it’s my choice to kiss it or shake it.”

“Oh.” She held out her hand. The king shook it.

Great. She’d already blown her first introduction.

Dom turned her in the direction of his brother. As tall as Dominic and every bit as good-looking—though his face had a roundness to it that made him appear kinder, with eyes that sparkled—Alex smiled warmly at her.

“It’s a pleasure to meet the woman who snagged my brother.”

King Ronaldo growled. “We do not speak that way in this house.”

“Really, Father,” Alex said, as he took his seat and opened his napkin. “This house is the only place we can speak like that.” He smiled at Ginny as Dominic seated her. “It’s a pleasure to have you in the family, Ginny, even if my brother does intend to dress you like a grandmother.”

With a gasp, she faced Dom. “I told you!”

He almost smiled, but his father let out one of those low growls of disapproval again, and Dominic’s face shifted, returning to his formal expression.

As a servant brought in salads, King Ronaldo said, “So, Miss Jones, tell us about yourself.”

She swallowed. “Well, you know I’m a guidance counselor at a high school.”

“Which is where you met Dominic.”

She nodded. “My mother was a teacher. I loved the relationships she had with her students.”

Alex said, “So why not teach?”

“I wanted a chance to meet all the kids, know all the kids, not just the ones I was teaching.”

The king said, “Ump,” but his tone of voice was positive.

She relaxed a bit. But when she glanced at the row of silverware, sweat beaded on her forehead. Seven forks. Just what in the name of all that was holy were they about to eat?

Remembering the rhyme she’d been taught in grade school, she started with the outside fork.

“What else should we know?”

“Actually, Your Majesty, since you’ve already decided the answer to our problem is to marry, and I’m the one who hasn’t made up her mind, I think I should be the one asking questions.”

Alex burst out laughing. “I like her.”

The king growled again.

Dominic shot her a look of reprimand.

So she smiled and rephrased the question. “It’s an honor to have been asked to join your family. But in America we have a saying about not buying a car unless you kick the tires.”

Alex laughed again. “Now we’re tires.”

Not sure if she liked Dominic’s brother or not, Ginny shrugged and said, “Or you’re the used car. Be glad I didn’t use the don’t-buy-a-horse-without-checking-its-teeth analogy.”

Alex laughed. Dominic groaned. But the king quietly said, “Fair enough. What would you like to know?”

“I don’t really have to dress like this for the entire time Dominic and I stay married, do I?”

“You need to look respectable.” King Ronaldo inspected her blue dress and grimaced. Even he thought it was ugly. “If we let you choose your own wardrobe, can you do that?”

“Of course, I can do that!”

“You also need to behave with the utmost of decorum in public.”

“I can do that, too. Though I might need some help with protocols.” She answered honestly, but she hadn’t missed the way the king had turned the tables on her again, and she retook control of the conversation. “So what was Dominic like as a child?”

The king said, “Headstrong.”

Alex said, “A bully.”

Dominic said, “All older brothers bully their baby brothers. It’s like a rule.”

And for the first time, Ginny felt as if she was actually talking to people. A family.

Alex shook his head. “Do you know he agreed to marry the princess of Grennady when he was only twelve?”

She faced Dom. “Really?”

Their eyes met and memories of holding him close, whispering in his ear, being held and touched and loved by him rolled through her, and she understood why Dominic had been avoiding eye contact in the elevator. Looking into someone’s eyes was intimate. In those few seconds, he wasn’t just a name or a problem or a memory, he was a real person. The guy she’d made love with. Father of her child.

“My mother had just died. Our kingdom was in a state of mourning from which we couldn’t seem to emerge. It was appropriate to do something that didn’t just ensure peace—it also brought up morale.”

She continued to hold his gaze as he spoke, and something warm and soft floated through her. At twelve, he had been mature enough to do his duty. Hell, he was mature enough to know his duty. It was remarkable, amazing.

Alex sighed. “Now I’m stuck marrying her.”

She faced Dom’s younger brother with a wince. “Really? You have to marry the princess Dom was supposed to marry?”

The king said, “You can’t just back out of a twenty-year-old treaty. We promised a marriage. We will deliver a marriage.”

Alex batted a hand. “Doesn’t matter. The princess and I will have a marriage of convenience.” He shrugged. “I’ll run around on her. She’ll run around on me. Nobody will really know who our babies belong to and we won’t allow blood tests. It’ll be fine.”

The king scowled. “Once again, Alex, I won’t have you talk like that at the table.”

Silence fell over the foursome. Dominic didn’t defend his younger brother, who seemed oddly cowed by the reprimand. Hoping to restart the conversation and shift everybody’s attention, Ginny tried to think of a question to ask, but couldn’t come up with one to save her soul. She wanted to. She wanted to lift the gloom of talking about a dead queen, mourning subjects and a younger brother resigned to a loveless marriage—his life made tolerable by affairs. But nothing came to mind, except an empty, hollow feeling that this was the family she was marrying into.

But even as she thought that, she realized there was a human side to this story. A man had lost his wife and raised two boys alone. One son had become a slave to duty. The other rebellious.

Was the pain of losing a wife and mom any less because they were royal?

In some ways she thought it might have been worse.

Dominic started a conversation about the country’s budget and a quiet discussion ensued. When the dinner was over, the king took her hand, bent and kissed it. An apology, she supposed, for the long, difficult dinner. Or maybe an acknowledgment that the next few years of her life would be like this, if she chose to marry Dominic.

They walked back to Dominic’s apartment in silence, her blue dress swishing against her calves, mocking her, reminding her just how out of her element she was and just how much she wished she were back at her condo, sitting by the pool, sipping something fruity.

When they entered Dom’s apartment, he said, “We’ll meet the minister of protocol tomorrow morning.”

“Okay.” She headed for the double doors of her bedroom suite. “Great.”

“Don’t let my family scare you.”

She stopped, turned to face him. “I’m not afraid of you.” She almost said, “I feel sorry for you.” For as difficult as the beginning of her life had been, she’d redeemed it. She’d built a world of friends and meaning. Dominic, his brother and the grouchy king were stuck.

But the strange look in his eyes kept her from saying that. He didn’t seem embarrassed by his family as much as he appeared interested in what she thought of them. He wanted her to like them. Or approve of them. Or maybe just accept them.

She walked over to him, her ugly dyed blue pumps clicking on the marble floor, echoing in the silence. “I’m very accustomed to dealing with ornery dads. I was fine. Your father and brother might be a little grouchy or stern or even too flip, but I’d have paid to have family like them.”

He sniffed a laugh. “Right.”

“I’m serious.” She smiled slightly. “Your brother needs a week of time-out in his room to get his act together, or maybe a good friend to talk through his life. Your dad lost his wife and lived his grief in the public eye. And you just want to live up to what your dad wants. You’re actually a very normal family.” Something she’d longed for her entire life. Something that could suck her in if she wasn’t careful. “Good night.”

* * *

As she turned to walk back to her bedroom suite, Dominic whispered, “Good night,” confused by what she’d said. From what his investigators had dug up, her father was dead. Her mother adored her and she had a billion friends.

So what was that sad note he heard in her voice?

And why the hell would she have wanted his family?

He told himself it couldn’t matter and walked to his suite, removing his tie. But the next day when she arrived at the table for breakfast, he jumped to his feet, feeling something he couldn’t quite identify. He didn’t see her in the red dress, dancing provocatively, happily seducing him. He saw a fresh-faced American girl who had something in her past. Something his private investigator hadn’t dug up, but something that made her more than accepting of his stiff and formal father, and sometimes-obnoxious playboy brother.

He pulled out the chair beside his. “What would you like to eat?”

“I’d like one of those oranges,” she said, pointing at the fruit in the bowl on the buffet behind the table. “And some toast.”

“That’s it?”

She shrugged. “It’s all I’m hungry for.”

He rang for a serving girl and made her request for toast and a glass of water. She plucked an orange from the bowl and began to peel it.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Yes.”

“You remember we meet with the minister of protocol this morning?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

His nerves jangled and he cursed himself. They were entering into a pretend marriage for the sake of their child. It was her prerogative if she didn’t want to get too chummy with him.

Still, it didn’t seem right not to say anything while they ate breakfast.

“If you decide to stay and marry me, we’ll have your mom flown over, not just for the wedding but for the preparations.”

“My mom still teaches.”

“Oh.”

“I’m twenty-five. She had me when she was twenty-five. That makes her fifty.” She peeked up from her orange and smiled at him. “Too young to retire.”

“You said she likes teaching.”

“She loves teaching.”

And the conversation died. Frustration rolled through him. As her toast arrived, he tried to think of something to say; nothing came to him.

She pulled one of the many newspapers provided for him from the stack on the end of the table and began reading. Even as he was glad she was a smart woman who appeared to be up on current events and most likely wouldn’t embarrass him, he scowled internally, realizing reading the paper was a good way to avoid talking to him.

After breakfast, they walked along tall-ceilinged corridors to the first floor of the palace and the office of the minister of protocol, their footsteps the only sound around them. If a servant caught a peek at Dominic, he or she froze in place and bowed as he passed by. He barely noticed until he caught a sideways glance at Ginny’s face and saw it scrunch in confusion.

“I don’t like the fuss.”

She peeked over. “Excuse me?”

“I don’t like the fuss. But respect is part of the deal. To be an effective leader, your subjects must respect you. Trust you to rule well. Bowing is a sign that they trust you.”

“Interesting.”

Annoyance skittered through him. “It’s not ‘interesting.’ It’s true.”

“Okay. Maybe I said that wrong. What I should have said was it’s interesting that it’s true because it gives me a whole different perspective of you as a leader. It helps me to see you as a leader.”

It shouldn’t have relieved him so much that she agreed. But he told himself it only mattered because he needed for her to respect him, too, for the years they’d be married.

Finally at the back of the building, they took an elevator to the first floor to the working space of the palace.

“Holy cow. This is big.”

“It’s huge.” He pointed to the right. “The king’s offices are over there. My offices and my brother’s are near his. To the left,” he said, motioning toward a long hall, “are the general offices. This is where our ministers and staff work.”

* * *

Not able to see the end of the hall, Ginny blinked. It went so far it was almost like looking at an optical illusion.

He smiled. “I know. Impressive.”

She said, “Right.” But when her gaze swung around to his, she was no longer talking about the size of the palace. Everything about being royalty was bigger, better, grander than anything she’d ever seen or experienced. The truth of being a commoner washed through her again. His family might have normal bickering siblings with a traditional disciplinarian dad, but she couldn’t forget they were rulers. Rich, powerful. The kind of family she shouldn’t even cross paths with, let alone marry into.

“This way.”

He took her elbow to guide her and sparkly little pinpricks skittered up her arm. She didn’t know which was worse—being incredibly attracted to him or her good reaction to his brother and dad. Either one of them could get her into trouble. She shouldn’t have admitted the night before that she’d have loved to have had a family like his. She could see it had made him curious. She’d tried to downplay it by being distant that morning, but she knew they were going to talk about this and she knew he had every right to ask. The question was: How did one explain living with a cheating, lying, thieving alcoholic to someone raised with such structure, such finery?

The minister of protocol turned out to be a short older woman whose green eyes lit when Ginny and Dominic entered the room.

She rose from her seat. “Prince Dominic!” She rounded the desk and hugged him. “I hear congratulations are in order. You’re about to have a baby!”

It was the first time anybody had actually been happy about her pregnancy or spoken of her baby as a baby, instead of a ruler or a prince or the guy who would be king. Ginny’s heart filled with warmth and she forgot all about her dad, her past, her rubbish upbringing and the fear that someday she’d have to explain it all to Dominic.

The minister turned to Ginny. “And you.” Her smile was warm, but didn’t reach her eyes. “Congratulations on your upcoming wedding. Welcome to our home.”

Stifling the urge to curtsy and the vague feeling that the minister didn’t quite think her good enough, she said, “Thank you. But I still haven’t made a decision on the marriage.”

Dominic took over the introductions. “Virginia, this is Sally Peterson, our minister of protocol.”

“You may call me Sally.” She motioned to the chairs in front of her desk.

“Because Virginia is on the fence, I thought perhaps you could better explain to her why our getting married is a good idea.”

“Okay.” Sally folded her hands and set them on the desk. “What’s the best way to explain this?” She thought for another second, then said, “Because your child will someday be our ruler, there isn’t a court in the world that would refuse us the opportunity to train him, to bring him up to be our king. Which means you have four choices. First, marry Dom.” She smiled at Dominic. “Second, don’t marry Dom but live in the palace with your child to help raise him or her. Third, don’t marry Dom, move back to the United States with a contingent of bodyguards and household servants until the child is twelve and will attend boarding school, and fourth, give up all rights.”

Her voice softened. “I’m certain you don’t want to give up all rights. Not marrying Dom, but living in the palace and helping raise your child makes sense, but will expose Dom to all kinds of gossip. He could be perceived as being unfit as a ruler if he couldn’t even persuade the woman he’d gotten pregnant to marry him.”

The thought of the ramifications for Dom made her blood run cold. She might not really know him, but she knew him enough that she could not let that happen to him. “What would happen if we got married?”

“You would need to be seen in public together at least twice before you would announce the quick wedding. We will also announce the pregnancy at the same time so that the rumors of a pregnancy don’t take the sheen off your wedding day. The theory is if we get it out immediately it won’t be ‘news’ anymore.”

Exactly what Dom had told her.

He caught her gaze and smiled at her.

Once again she saw a glimpse of the guy who had whisked her away the night of their fateful dalliance. Stiff and formal or not, almost-complete stranger or not, he was the father of her child and his needs had to be considered.

“Plus, if you marry Dom, your position gives you a bit of power so to speak. You can use your celebrity to support causes. As someone who’d worked in education, you may wish to host events to raise awareness or to build schools anywhere in the world.”

“Oh.” That was amazing. Something she hadn’t considered and something that would give her a chance to impact the world. Just the thought of it stole her breath. “That would be great.”

“Plus,” Sally said with a chuckle, “a royal wedding is fantastic. Your gown would be made by the designer of your choice.” She laughed. “And money is no object. The guests will be royalty and dignitaries from every country in the world. You would get to meet your president.”